"I can't afford to stay in this apartment, but the task of organizing this mess of a home I barely 'live' in is so monumental, I don't know where to start of even how to do it alone. If I pack things to move, my apartment is so small, there is nowhere to stage or stack the boxes, so where can I put them? I can stack them over in storage, but that's where my things were stolen from a year ago, and everything I put in there becomes ruined anyway because it's infested with spiders and smells moldy. Why do I even pay eighty dollars a month for that storage unit? But if I tried to clean out the storage unit and just have all my possessions with me, where can I throw the massive volume of trash? It's infested, so it's not going in MY car! Should I rent a U-Haul? Then bring the trash just where exactly? Is there a place in the city that allows people to dump trash? Oh, my motorcycle is in there. I can't ride it anymore, now that my ACL and MCL are gone, so I just need to sell it. But I didn't store it the way I should have - it needs a tune up and new tires because I'm sure they have dry rot by now. Would a girl be taken advantage of, selling a vehicle? Craigslist can be dangerous. Should I ask a male friend to be my negotiator? Oh wait, I don't have any friends except people I work with, and they've stopped asking me to go anywhere because I always said no, so maybe I don't really have friends after all." ETC ETC
That constant thinking kept me up twenty-four seven, also. And I also had issues with being really irritable, especially aimed towards any innocent person I was in a relationship with. It turned out that I needed not only an antidepressant, but a mood stabilizer, and my swings into anger got better. All of the anxiety and anxious thinking, staying up until the birds were chirping - that still continued, but at least my anger was in control.
I went back through my email and located email confirmations of my online orders, looking for big spending patterns, or unhealthy things I was trying to do like Craigslist hookups, etc. And I saw a wave pattern. So now I finally understand that I have spent thirty years chasing an antidepressant that would work and going to ENDLESS talk therapy, when in reality, I was suffering from bipolar, and was undiagnosed.
I'm sharing my personal story with you because I also thought that my constant worry and insomnia was due to anxiety - and so did my doctors. Yet it continued, despite anti-anxiety medication. I had to keep pushing, and this was my result. I deserve to be happy, and so do you. I'm not saying that you're an undiagnosed sufferer. I am saying that you're suffering, and you deserve to keep pushing until you find a solution. Keep trying and don't hesitate to be your own biggest advocate. I was on a terrible antidepressant that I told my doctor over and over again was making me feel bad and was causing me to gain weight, but he forced me to stay on it for five years. I will never let a doctor control me like that again. The best thing you can do, at least, as I've learned from my own experience, is to not be afraid to be BLATANTLY honest about everything you're going through, even the scary stuff you might want to hide. My new doctor says "this is Vegas" in the exam room - HeHe. That's how it should be.